Romney Vampire
by Alex Murphy
Summary: For Mitt Romney the title of president has been a heavy burden, his electoral victory tempered by tragedy. On the eve of his despair a new threat is found, though is it a danger at all? And even if Mitt wins, humanity, his humanity will pay the price.
1. Chapter 1

"Congratulations Mr. Romney! As your campaign advisor it brings me great pleasure to tell you that the presidency is once again yours! We sent that pit bull Clinton packing that's for sure."

Mitt smiled, his advisor Dave had always been a sparkplug, a man with boundless energy and endless optimism. Mitt recalled many a day during that auspicious first election when things looked bad, Dave had kept him and his whole team going.

"You make it sound like we crushed her Dave. Remember we lost Ohio." Mitt said reclining into his chair. Modest, Mitt was always modest but in truth he had license to brag as no man had bragged before. In only four years the economy was back on track and the American people were finally beginning to live their lives in a meaningful way again. Yet in spite of all the good he had done one thing haunted him. It was not a policy decision or a tawdry temptation he took, but a flick from the fickle finger of fate. Mitt's brooding was interrupted by a phone call, on the red telephone, that portend of black doom. With cat-like agility he plucked the phone from its plastic cradle.

"This is Romney, go ahead." The president coolly intoned.

"Mitt we've got a situation, better get down to the war room."

Click!

The phone line went dead and the beleaguered president sat back down in his chair and pushed a concealed button under his desk. Instantly his dark leather seat lowered into the floor, sending it's occupant down a long elevator shaft. The president was lowered into a concrete bunker; dozens of computer workstations were arranged in a circular amphitheatre style, surrounding a single massive monitor.

After a few moments of waiting the cyclopean screen flashed to life, revealing a dignified looking military man with a white handlebar mustache.

"Thank you, Mr. President for making time for this short briefing." Grumbled the mustachioed man.

"You know our nation's security has always been my top priority. Now what's the situation?" Mitt asked.

"Our intelligence intercepted several pamphlets advertising a school for monsters. Of course we didn't believe there were actually monsters, but Japan has often played host to several strange cults. We enrolled a few of our younger looking privates, outfitted with sophisticated recording software… This was their first and last transmission."

The image on the screen cut to black and then displayed a scene that looked like Transylvania on drugs, the soil was gunmetal gray and in the distance a gothic looking building loomed. A group of young men, who Mitt took to be the aforementioned soldiers were in a panicked whisper, the audio was poor but he heard them say one word over and over again _monster_. Suddenly there came a crashing noise from the nearby woods and what looked like a massive orc came charging out. What came next made even the cool and calm Mitt squirm, the orc grabbed the soldiers and tore them apart with his bare hands, showering himself with their bloody debris. The brave young men were quickly picked apart until there was only one survivor. The whole room gasped in shock as the orc ate the last brave private alive.

Mitt covered his eyes with his hands, "Jesus."

The general came back on-screen his eyes averted to some unseen corner, "I think you know what you have to do."

For several seconds Mitt remained motionless, gradually his hand removed itself from his face, his expression of shock no longer alighted his face, replaced instead by a mask of grim determination.

"Prepare Air Force One, I'm going to Japan."


	2. Chapter 2

**Romney + Vampire Chapter 2**

Note: Sorry this update took so long; the result of the election seriously depressed me. However I've decided to continue the story.

"You can't be serious about this Mitt, let the army do their god damn job. Quite frankly this whole escapade sounds like an adolescent fantasy. Hardly worthy of the president's time…"

Mitt grimaced and looked out the corner of his eye. Paul was a good vice president, capable and persuasive. But ever since day one his standard refrain had been to call the president out on not being conservative enough. Mitt could deal with these accusations, but this latest castigation of personal cowboy adventurism, to Mitt rung true. Why was he doing this? Certainly those soldiers needed to be avenged, but the military was more than capable of doing so. Boredom? Itchy feet? Lame excuses, but the only ones that made any sense.

"And another thing, no president has ever survived ingesting the serum, the eggheads may claim it's more stable but I wouldn't bet the farm on it."

Ah, the serum, before this Japanese monster academy situation it had been Mitt's only encounter with the supernatural. For centuries America's top scientists have been working on technology to grant the president superpowers. In all their years of research only one vignette has born fruit, the serum. And even that has killed every president who has drunk it. But now he's told that it's finally safe or at least safer. To stop these monsters himself, Mitt would risk the pain of death.

There was a single knock on the cabin door and a man in a white lab-coat entered unbidden. "We're ready for you on the operation deck Mr. President."

"Thank you, Dr. Sowell… I hope you're a Republican." Mitt said flashing a nervous grin.

"Ha-ha! Good one Mitt! Now please, follow me to the operating deck." Said Dr. Sowell.

The president slowly stood up and followed the doctor down the narrow corridor. As he did so he tightly gripped the rosary in his right pocket. A gift from his father, George, this rosary had given Mitt comfort in his darkest hours, a constant reminder that God loved him and was watching with a steady unbreakable gaze. A nearby door opened with a mechanical woosh and Mitt stepped into the operating room.

The president shielded his aged eyes, the room was lit by nearly a dozen powerful fluorescent lights and the clean metallic surfaces reflected the luminance in dazzling fashion.

"Lie down on the table and do not move." Intoned a masked surgeon.

Mitt lay down and as the anesthesia pumped into his lungs the president began to dream…

Mitt inhaled sharply and received a lungful of icy vapor. Instantly he noticed that he was now possessed of his youth. A strong hand pulled at his arm, his father George. They were walking like it was one of the hikes they had embarked on in Mitt's boyhood, but something was wrong. All the details were screwy; the president looked around and saw a burning village filled with the corpses of beautiful women. What had happened?

"Son, I just want to let you know that no matter what happens I love you and mark my words you will not become your father…"

Suddenly… nothing, the whole world was a sea of milky white. Mitt blinked and vague outlines of objects appeared. Blinking once more the president's vision returned to him. Instantly he felt the sensation of power, it surged through his veins, filled his lungs and made his arms feel as if they would explode.

"Mr. President are you Allright? Can you hear me?"

"Yes."


End file.
